I just came back from a messy case. Boysenberry. Long story short, my shirt is stained so bad, I'd be better off dying it blue than tryin' ta get it bleached white again.
I hung up my hat, because we all wear them these days, and I noticed something. A shadow moving across the thin strip of light under my door... and suddenly, a letter was shoved through.
I ran to the door and threw it open, but like some famous sports figure of my time renowned for his or her speed and/or ability to hide quickly, the messenger was gone. Like, gonesville, because we said things like that back... now...
I looked at the letter, and it had no return address. It also had no send-to address. There was nothing written on the letter. Also, it wasn't a letter. it was a pie.
One whiff told me everything I needed to know. Pumpkin. The Halloween Hoods were back in town. Guess I ain't settling down early tonight after all.
Well... no sense letting this pumpkin pie go to waste.
As I finished my seventh slice, I noticed something that, in my pumpkin induced euphoria, I must have completely overlooked before. Nearly the entire pie tin was a bomb. The kind with sticks of dynamite and an old-timey wind-up alarm clock with the two over-sized bells on top. The clock said 11:30, but the fools set it for AM. I had plenty of time to deal with this.
After finishing the rest of the pie, I searched around the office and found another three pies. These were from earlier this afternoon, but I'm not the kinda palooka what looks Serendipity in the eye. Serendipity's eye's like a gift-horse's mouth. That's what my grandkids will one day say that their granddad always said. After finishing off these three pies, I slipped into something a little more comfortable (because that's something that happens a lot in these kinds of fil... fil... filled-with-noir-adventure times we live in.)
The next morning, I woke up at 11:25, looked at the clock, and thought to myself "Pie." After that, I thought "I'll just hit the snooze button when the alarm goes off, buy myself another few winks (because that's what we called sleep-time-units in olden days of yore). But I forgot that bomb clocks didn't have snooze alarms, and the bomb exploded and I died.
So thanks for nothing, Obsidian Portal! You set me up the bomb pie.
That's awesome Dusk. .And it's still happening. I mean I want to but I we all need to find a time we can do some sort of massive chat on Skype or something, so we can actually discuss what's going to be happening.. and then we can go from there.. I can do it anytime so all I need is when you, garaan and Jim and whoever else wanted to do this thing.. As awesome as I'd like to think I am I can't quite manage creating and entire podcast by myself :P
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http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=pecan+pie&FORM=BIFD#
I find Pies.
That's my job.
(Cue seedy 1940's detective movie jazz)
I just came back from a messy case. Boysenberry. Long story short, my shirt is stained so bad, I'd be better off dying it blue than tryin' ta get it bleached white again.
I hung up my hat, because we all wear them these days, and I noticed something. A shadow moving across the thin strip of light under my door... and suddenly, a letter was shoved through.
I ran to the door and threw it open, but like some famous sports figure of my time renowned for his or her speed and/or ability to hide quickly, the messenger was gone. Like, gonesville, because we said things like that back... now...
I looked at the letter, and it had no return address. It also had no send-to address. There was nothing written on the letter. Also, it wasn't a letter. it was a pie.
One whiff told me everything I needed to know. Pumpkin. The Halloween Hoods were back in town. Guess I ain't settling down early tonight after all.
Well... no sense letting this pumpkin pie go to waste.
As I finished my seventh slice, I noticed something that, in my pumpkin induced euphoria, I must have completely overlooked before. Nearly the entire pie tin was a bomb. The kind with sticks of dynamite and an old-timey wind-up alarm clock with the two over-sized bells on top. The clock said 11:30, but the fools set it for AM. I had plenty of time to deal with this.
After finishing the rest of the pie, I searched around the office and found another three pies. These were from earlier this afternoon, but I'm not the kinda palooka what looks Serendipity in the eye. Serendipity's eye's like a gift-horse's mouth. That's what my grandkids will one day say that their granddad always said. After finishing off these three pies, I slipped into something a little more comfortable (because that's something that happens a lot in these kinds of fil... fil... filled-with-noir-adventure times we live in.)
The next morning, I woke up at 11:25, looked at the clock, and thought to myself "Pie." After that, I thought "I'll just hit the snooze button when the alarm goes off, buy myself another few winks (because that's what we called sleep-time-units in olden days of yore). But I forgot that bomb clocks didn't have snooze alarms, and the bomb exploded and I died.
So thanks for nothing, Obsidian Portal! You set me up the bomb pie.
After all this talk of pie I have to admit I'm feeling a little self conscious that I made apple crisp last night. Don't judge me too harshly. ;)
What does that make it ABC pie then?